Nicki sighed into his shoulder, comforted by the hug, "But how did niether of us hear or see anything? She was...was feet from Vanessa and she didn't even notice her there. What if she's in pain?"
Willow woke with a jolt, trying to sit up but ending up only rolling to her side, her wrists bound behind her back. When she tried to move her legs she found her ankles tied too, and even screaming in frustration had been stripped from her, a gag in her mouth.
Seriously?
She looked around, noticing quickly she wasn't alone. She lay beside a log sitting near a fire, and ten other people were circled around it or pacing, all of them holding a heated discussion.
"We did what we set up to do!" one snapped, "Now we have to finish the job."
"We didn't set out to kidnap children!" another complained, "She's probably going to be terrified when she wakes."
The fact they didn't know she was awake was indeed a stroke of luck and Willow quickly closed her eyes. If they didn't see her awake they'd continue talking.
"She won't get hurt if everything goes according to plan," a deeper voice snapped, "We do it tonight, before her group gets closer to finding us. Surprise is our element."
"Fine," another woman snapped, "C'mon Linda, we did all we could."
Willow peeked out and noticed three women leaving, and about seven men stayed, most of them finding spots around the campfire to keep warm, the conversation moving away from Willow for a bit. As the day wore on people came and left, until one of the conversations turned back to her.
"She looks too old to be a kid," one of them commented, having being drinking for an hour now.
"They weren't sure of her age, but she doesn't look over twenty."
"Girls these days can be twenty two and look sixteen. I bet you she's over eighteen."
"Why does it matter?"
"Because that tight piece of ass-"
"Whoa," one of the other men cut him off, "Dude we don't rape."
"I don't want to rape nobody!" the drunk guy yelled, "I was just saying if she's a teen she's dressing rather prova-provo- slutty...she's dressing slutty."
Willow tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat, hating the conversation. All she was wearing were jeans, a tank top and her leather jacket. How was that provocative?
Fucking drunk people.
It only went on for a few more minutes before their drunken minds moved on to the differences between chickens and turkeys, but she had a knot in her stomach. Willow didn't want to be around these men, or this group. She wanted her freedom. She wanted to go home.